


His Lady

by Nightingale_Rising



Series: The Twice Told Tale of LadyBug and Chat_Noir [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Already know each other irl and dont know it, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Everyone's a loser, Everything is the same except Ladybug and Chat are Online Gaming Personas, F/M, Ft Alya as Prison Ass MF-er, Gaming AU, Little Romance, Lotta comedy, Mari and Adrien meet as Ladybug and Chat online, Mecha Strike, One half is the story in Adriens POV, One half is the story in Maris POV, Online Friendship, Online Romance, Same Story, Started as a Cinderella Story AU, TOLD IN 2 PARTS, Two narrators, now its Online Gaming AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-14 00:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7144115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightingale_Rising/pseuds/Nightingale_Rising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's my best friend, unexpected soul mate, and I don't even know his name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Press Start

**Author's Note:**

> Please read end notes!

 

“What’s the difference?” I asked him. “Between the love of your life, and your soulmate?”

“One is a choice, and one is not.” 

\- Tarryn Fisher,  _Mud Vein_

**oOo**

My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

I'm a normal girl, and I used to live a normal life, but I'm not so sure that's true anymore. My family used to own the _best_ bakery in Paris. Nothing compared to it. All it took though was one dreadful summer for us to go under. Enter my family's fairy godparents – the Bourgeois...or so they initially seemed. Monsieur Bourgeois, who is both the mayor and owner of the largest hotel in Paris, came along to bail us out. It seemed too good to be true, that he would give us money just so Paris could have its beloved bakery back. Still, a contract was signed and we thought heaven was smiling on us once again. However, with the help of clever lawyers and his dreadful daughter, Monsieur had cleverly worded the contract to ensure than our bakery would become his _and_ would be moved to his hotel. My parents were none the wiser until we were evicted, all because the mayor wanted Paris's best in his establishment, and his daughter wanted her favorite pastries in convenient reach. We lost everything – our home, our shop, control of our stock and menu, direct income, and our sense of security. We've been living in the hotel for what's felt like forever now, and despite all they've done, we're forced to be at the mercy of the Bourgeois, just so we can get by. No one knows who I am. I'm hotel girl. I'm bakery girl. I'm not entirely significant in my day to day life, mostly invisible, and completely destitute. But for as poor as I am, and for as nice as it would be _not_ to struggle under the Bourgeois thumb, I don't _need_ much more.

I suppose the silver lining of the situation is that life is never lonely. My parents, hardships aside, are always lovely and caring and warm and generous. I should be lucky to have a family that's all together anyway. We always have each other to tuck in at night, and we have each other to keep happy and lighthearted though the worst of times. And, of course, there's my best friend, Alya. She's been with me be since before the hotel bought out the bakery, and she'll probably be with me until I'm dead. She's one of the strongest people I know, and definitely the most loyal, and, rich or poor, I know she'll guarantee that my life will never be short of adventure. Still, though I'm never short of good company, it has always been hard to escape the haunting hopelessness of the hotel and hijacked bakery.

That is, until Ultimate Mecha Strike 3. I guess should elaborate a bit. Ultimate Mecha Strike has always been a part of my life, I guess, and by the time the third part in the series was out, I was old enough to become really good. I _always_ played with my dad, who initially taught me everything about the came. Of course, that came back to bite him when I surpassed him in skill and stopped losing to him altogether. When the online element was released, I saved everything I had to purchase it, working extra hours at the bakery. The day I bought the DLC was the day my internet alter ego was born, Ladybug, inspired by my favorite bot in the game. That very bot had became a kind of extension of myself over the years and I always thought she gave me luck when I couldn't make any for myself.

I had always known I was pretty good at the game – good enough to beat the Computer players, and Off_the_Hook (my father, who thought using his catchphrase was the best way to hide from me on the internet). Apparently, though, I was better than I thought. Much better. I rose in the ranks, being other top players such as RispaUnicorn, LadyWifi, and the humbly named BestPlayerEver. The latter was, in fact, the best player ever...until I got to him. Suddenly, I was the top ranked player on the entire server, eventually only really facing legitimate competition from one other player – Chat_Noir. Initially, I assumed he would become my greatest rival. However, thanks to the game's messaging system and multiplayer mode, we quickly became best friends, and partners instead. He has a surprising lack of confidence, despite being nearly equal to the best player in the entire game. Recently, though, we've been playing on teams more and more exclusively, and when we do, he _is_ my equal – no more, no less.

Chat's my best friend in a different way than any other friend I've ever had. I have a best friend in Alya...and then I have Chat. We happened to be lucky enough to live in a modern age where we could find each other online by chance, and we vibe like we've known each other forever, working together in an almost telepathic sense. He may get on my nerves _sometimes_ , and be a dork _all_ of the time, but I mean it when I say I couldn't live without the punk.

He's my best friend, unexpected soul mate, and I don't even know his name.

 


	2. Level 1

“ _Sometimes, fantasies are better than reality.”_

_A Cinderella Story_

 

To be honest, waking up was _never_ a simple task for me, even before my family was forced to move in to the Bourgeois Hotel. Even when I had the comfort of my home and the sweet morning sun coming in from my balcony window, I never really was a morning person. Hotel mornings, however, are worse. Much, much worse. My parents used to set their own hours, and the bakery operated semi-separately from our living quarters. Now that we have bosses, and we live on _their_ premises, _they_ are in charge of when we wake up. Of course, I'm not expected to help during school hours, but now that I sleep in such closer proximity to my parents, it's hard _not_ to be roused by their alarm, and once that wakes me up, it's practically impossible to get back to sleep. I usually try to help a little before I go to school, but that doesn't mean that I don't it in absolute zombie mode. I may have to get up obscenely early, but that's not a _choice_. What _is_ a choice is staying up until nearly dawn making sure my Mecha Strike ranking is secure and talking to Chat_Noir. A poor choice, yes, since I usually wake up a few hours later, but I'm going to be drowsy and grumpy in the mornings anyway. Might as well keep my nights productive.

My days _used_ to start at a normal pace. I never helped at the bakery on weekday mornings unless I was needed – and I was rarely needed at that kind of hour. I could sleep until it was time for school, maybe hit the _snooze_ button once or twice, and wake up and get ready with a regular level of teenage grumpiness. Now, I get up with my parents around 5 am and try not to cry. The first day we lived in the hotel, I tried my best to maintain the normal routine, but the new wall I shared with my parents was just too thin and there was no ignoring the wake up call. So now, a great amount of my morning is dedicated preparing and decorating pastries. It used to be a relaxing task, but not at 5 am and not for the hotel's patrons. Work is far more demanding, between regular bakery customers and the hotel's customers calling for room service. Double the work for half the pay. Not relaxing at all. And it was even worse during the summer. I had to wake up just as early, but not have the sweet release of school at all. And compared to the people we deal with at the hotel, school was _definitely_ a sweet release. But the first day of school and arrived again, and for once, I was looking forward to it. With school came the precious sanctuary of escape, and the chance to see friends (as well as a desperately pathetic crush which I will be circling back around to), and of course, it also meant that Chat was more free to talk during the day.

Chat, bless his heart, was very unfortunate to have me as a best friend, because that perky little fur ball is the most enthusiastic morning person I've ever met. I feel kind of bad that I can't greet him with equal enthusiasm in the mornings, but he deals with it just fine, so I don't make any extra effort to pretend that I'm chipper. I can't speak for his home life – we never get personal about those kinds of things – but I'm willing to bet that he has no demanding job or wake up call to attend to before school. He seems to text me usually right before school's about to start, trying to wake me up, as though I hadn't already been awake for hours. And he continues to do this, because I _may_ or may not have withheld the bakery information. For one, mentioning the bakery I work at would immediately give away my position and identity probably, and I'm not _quite_ ready for that. And besides that, I don't want his pity. I really don't. And explaining the situation would definitely inspire pity, I'm sure of it. Hell, he may try to come over and work my job for me. I'm not looking for that. So I let him believe that I sleep until the very last second. And during summer, when I work longer hours and can't get to my phone before noon, I let him think that that's how long I slept for. Causes no trouble, inspires no pity, covers my grumpy morning attitude. Of course, this meant that on _some_ days I had to come up with colorful excuses to explain why I was always so tired and late with replying...and late for school. I had plenty of classmates I didn't want pitying me either. Over the course of the friendship, I had told Chat everything from saying I had car troubles (later confessing that my family doesn't own a car) to saying my grandmother was on fire (later confessing I don't have a grandmother either).

So on this, the first day of school, I felt by phone vibrating in my pocket, bright and early. Chat likes to call himself my alarm clock and I like to tell him that I sleep in. It's a symbiotic relationship. It wasn't until just under an hour before the start of school that I could finally look at the texts. I knew he was excited – he liked the start of school as much as I did – but he really wasn't playing around this morning.

 **Chat_Noir:** Dick Grayson was the worst Robin, Damian Wayne is clearly the better side kick.

 **Chat_Noir:** Greedo shot first.

 **Chat_Noir:** If you don’t wake up right now I will send you the entire Bee Movie Script.

 **Chat_Noir:** Line by Line.

 **Chat_Noir:** According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly.

 **Chat_Noir:** Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground

 **Chat_Noir:** The bee of course, flies anyways because bees don’t care what humans think are impossible.

 **Chat_Noir:** “Yellow, black, yellow, black, yellow, black.”

 **Chat_Noir:** “Oh, black and yellow! Let’s shake it up a little.”

I sighed deeply before texting back. Sleep or no sleep, this was too much.

 **Ladybug:** imma little worried u have that memorized

I rubbed my eyes before adding on to “keep in character” (not that I had to dig deep – it was still ridiculously early and I was still ridiculously grumpy, and Chat's enthusiasm only fueled it further).

 **Ladybug:** ps go fuck yourself its too early to be awake

 **Ladybug:** pps dont talk to me or my son ever again

Unsurprisingly, he responded completely undeterred.

 **Chat_Noir:** <3 Love you too. (｡･ω･｡)

Thankfully, Chat's texts signaled my cue to leave the bakery and get ready for school, so in a way, he did cheer me up. And he knew that, even if I didn't say it, and ran with it every time.

I did, admittedly, spend a little too long in the bakery, which led me to spending a little too long getting ready for school (I may be mostly invisible, but I do _try_ to make an impression). So, despite the fact that I had woken up, like, three hours before school, I was _still_ going to be late. My phone buzzed again, but this time, it was my best friend, Alya.

 **Alya:** gurl where the hell r u, its the first day and ur already late?

 **Alya:** i just handed a coffee order off to ur boy

 **Alya:** if u had been here, u could have given it to him

I felt a blush go throughout my entire body. And _there_ was the crush again. I have to admit, giving morning coffee to him, to _Adrien_ , really would have perked me up. _And_ would have motivated me to getting to school early. If Alya had told me _sooner_ , it might have made a difference. But, you know, that's Alya. _The_ prototype of a Chaotic Good human. I _could_ have given him coffee. You know, if I wasn't late all the time. Then again, Alya was also the type to say “if you were here, you _could_ have bungee jumped off the Eiffel Tower with me,” (still unsure as to how she managed that), or “if you were here, you _could_ have helped me and Easter Dave birth a tiger,” (still unsure as to the _exact_ identity of the crime boss, Easter Dave, what he has to do with Easter, and how Alya met him, let alone the tigers, but I _can_ say that after being roped into so many shenanigans with he and Alya, we are so far in this Easter Dave's debt at this point, our loyalty is more like a life long blood bond). So really, I take Alya's “could have's” with a grain of salt now. Saying I could have handed Adrien coffee is like saying I could have eaten whipped cream off of Easter Dave's ass. In other words, as unlikely as ever.

I want to say Adrien's a friend. I guess if I were describing him to a stranger, he would be. But I can't even hand him a coffee, so what do you make of that? I'm always with Alya, and Alya is always with Nino who, for all intents and purposes, is her boyfriend (no matter how much Alya protests that she can't be tied down – either by _a_ man or _The_ Man). And Nino is Adrien's best friend. By default, we're always in the same group, and by default we've ended up in a few crazy situations together, thanks to Alya, but all that's done is make it so I don't _always_ stutter around him like a complete idiot. I'm still frozen around him a good amount of the time. I don't run from him anymore (not that I can with the way our group is), and I can form fully fledged sentences, but that takes so much focus, and half of it is used up thinking about not blushing, so not much is ever really said. Of course, he's _also_ a model, and _also_ the son of my favorite designer. That's not why I'm so infatuated with him, of course, because who the hell is that shallow, but it really doesn't help. The prettier his face is, the harder it is to concentrate, and it certainly got prettier with time. Plus, as an aspiring designer myself, I'm so paranoid about making a bad impression on _any_ part of his family at all that I can't trust myself to say or do much anyway. As it is, our relationship started out kind of...well, not on the _best_ of terms, and if he remembers it was well as I do, then I can't really afford any more screw ups.

I can't imagine my habit of being late so often is impressive to him either. He's so polite and professional all the time, and has a more exact and demanding schedule than anyone else I know. His flesh would probably melt off of his bones if he were ever late. It probably makes his skin crawl watching my complete lack of punctuality. Like on this day for example. It _was_ the first day of school, after all, and it would have been a tragedy had I not started off the year with an expertly delayed bang.

Class had already been in session for ten minutes by the time I finally got there. I was setting the bar high for myself, but what else could be acceptable for my final year of schooling? I peeked inside the window on the door and made immediate eye contact with Alya, who had probably just been waiting for me. I gestured to her to let her know which plan we were going with, and when Mme. Bustier's back was turned, I slipped in. Alya grabbed my bag immediately and set it down to make it look like it had been there the whole time. Following after, I began to walk to my seat backwards like it was the most natural thing in the world. One of two things could then happen. Either I'd make it to my seat without a hitch, _or_ , Mme. Bustier would turn around before I got the chance.

Of course, the latter occurred. Thanks to mine and Alya's brilliancy whoever, the fact that I was walking backwards made it appear as though I were _leaving_ my seat, rather than just entering class for the first time. Of course, leaving my seat wasn't a good thing either, but at least I couldn't get a detention for it. Especially not on the first day. As long As Mme. Bustier didn't realize I hadn't been there before, it wouldn't be a problem.

“M. Dupain-Cheng. Why are you out of your seat?” she asked. Perfect. The next phase of the plan could commence.

“I had to use the bathroom and didn't want to disturb the class,” I explained. Classy. Stupid. But she couldn't forbid me from peeing.

“Class just started. Why didn't you use the restroom before?”

Maybe I would get kudos from the class for killing time. I tried not to think about the fact that I was discussing my peeing habits in front of Adrien. He was, after all, looking _very_ invested in the ordeal.

“Well, you see,” I said, trying to sound natural. “I didn't have to go then.”

Truth. I didn't have to go at all.

Mme. Bustier rolled her eyes. Over the years, her honey exterior faded – at least when it came to my antics. She gave up though, which meant I had won and wasn't going to be _that_ loser to get detention in the first ten minutes of the first day of school. I bumped fists with Alya, and half an hour later, my _favorite_ human, Chloè Bourgeois, walked in tardy herself. Too much to hope that she would be absent on the first day.

Chloè “Miss Thang” Bourgeois, however, does not have my prowess in being tardy and all she did was offer up some cock and bull story about helping her daddy with “important mayor business.” Complete B.S. I had seen her that morning – she just hadn't felt like going to school. I'm sure she had forgotten that was the only place she could be close to and hang all over Adrien without him being able to run away.

On cue, she flung herself onto Adrien – in the middle of class, thank you very much – cooing that stupid pet name, _Adrikins._ Honestly, I'd be jealous if it wasn't so blatantly obvious that Adrien was having none of it. I felt more contempt over the fact that she bothered him. That, and the fact that Chloè's existence generally makes me want to set myself on fire. Sound harsh? Yeah, so is forcing a family out of their home and taking over their personal bakery and only source of income. I listened to her babble bullshit about having to spend lunch with him until Mme. Bustier _finally_ spoke up. I guess it's a “mayor's daughter thing,” but it pisses me off to no end that her whole scene got less fuss than my going to the bathroom. Even if I wasn't going to the bathroom at all. For all Mme. Bustier knows, I wasn't even late in the first place.

Luckily, that was the worst of her I had to deal with for the first day. I was glad to see that I always had at least one of my friends in class with me, and I didn't even get too nervous when I saw that Adrien was closest friend I had in Physics. Adrien is easily the best in our class at Physics, and it's his favorite subject, so crush or not, I'd have been thankful that he settled in next to me to be my partner for the year. Considering that I wasn't stuttering anymore, I had high hopes that Physics would be a gateway to actual conversation without the middle men known as “best friends.”

The first day came to a halt, and though it was one of my least eventful first days, I had good vibes considering that I hadn't been marked late and that I hadn't embarrassed myself in front of Adrien yet. Alya called the remaining three of us to a meeting outside school, however, and demanded we either mourn the end of summer, celebrate the new year, or both. This meant that there was still room for embarrassment, considering the dramatics that went into both Alya's mourning and celebrating. Luckily for me, Alya's important meeting was interrupted by a phone call. It didn't last long enough for me to figure out the caller's identity, but considering that all of Alya's friends were standing here before her, I deduced that it had to be one of the dozens of henchmen, cronies, or crimes bosses in the web of knowledge, action, and informants that she had somehow come to know.

As soon as the call ended, I got sudden confirmation by Alya grabbing my arm and dragging me. That's it – Alya's friends had researched me and found something I had done wrong and they were ready to ice me.

“Rain check on the ice cream,” Alya said, canceling our after-school treat. “Marinette and I have to go.”

“Wait – we do?”

I wiggled a bit from her grasp, knowing that if we were both going, I had probably done nothing wrong.

“Easter Dave needs us on Project Butterfly 335,” Alya whispered to me, as if it meant to thing to Adrien and Nino. Even if they _did_ know Easter Dave, the project would have been lost to them. This one especially. 335 was an odd request to say the least.

“He needs us for polka renditions of Lady Gaga?” I asked. Alya sighed deeply like I had insulted her in the greatest way.

“ _335_ ,” she repeated, emphasizing every number.

“ _Oh!_ ” I exclaimed, remembering suddenly. I had made a mistake. 355 was Lady Gaga. 335 was not Lady Gaga. Not even close. “Yes, we have to go. You guys going to be okay if we go?”

I addressed both of them at the same time to kill nerves, hoping that my genuine concern would pierce Adrien enough for him to respond directly to me. Adrien _could have_. But didn't. Instead, Nino responded.

“Don't worry, me and _Adrikins_ can go on our own. Have fun,” he said. I cringed when I heard Chloè's nickname, but glad when I saw Adrien recoil as well. I had no time to chat more, because Alya was pulling me away quickly, but I waved to the boys and offered a quick “see you later.”

I should have known that a boring first day was too suspicious to be likely. A real first day of school wouldn't have been complete without Easter Dave calling in a favor. As we made our way, I pulled out my phone and started fill Chat in on the day, wishing more than ever that he could be right there between Alya and I.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, this is a story told in two parts! You must read Adrien's chapters (updated at the same time as this fic's) in order to have and understand the whole story. Go here to read Level 1 of Adrien's half: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7144157/chapters/16552021
> 
> CAST YOUR VOTE NOW: Who is Easter Dave? Figure it out before Marinette and get a cookie.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the prologue!   
> Please be aware that that story is made of two halves, meant to be read in tandem! I am writing Ladybug/Marinette's half, and my best friend at Nightingale_Rising is writing Adrien/Chat's half. You must read both together to get the full story! Check his prologue out here!
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/7144157/chapters/16220873
> 
> Let us know what you think! We love the feedback!


End file.
